


Eternity

by ElysiumAngel14



Category: Eternity - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Crimes & Criminals, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mutant Powers, Mystery, Psychic Abilities, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7045252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElysiumAngel14/pseuds/ElysiumAngel14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A psychic amnesiac wakes up to what would be anyone's worst nightmare. She's connected to one of the darkest minds out there, a serial killer, and they're determined to hunt her down. What she doesn't know is they have a power of their own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity

The Beginning

I opened my eyes and I saw I was in an empty warehouse with broken glass, nails, and God knows what all over the rotten wooden floor. The windows near the ceiling had boards all over them. The ceiling showed nothing but empty blackness beyond the broken windows. There were two construction lights on the floor with one of them aiming directly in my eyes. I tried to move my fingers, but they wouldn’t respond. It was useless to move my arms. I’d never be able to move them again. I was too tired to continue struggling and frankly, I was actually surprised I was still alive. I looked up and tried not to focus on what’s happened to me and… that poor little girl. The other construction light was beaming its light on her. She was whimpering, and there was a figure standing over her, brandishing a black industrial folding knife. I tried to look at the figure, but it was as if they were blurred out or shrouded in shadow. I just couldn’t see them. They said something, but she screamed over their voice. “Please... please stop… I told you everything I know!” I screamed over her. The figure repeated themselves in a powerful, ambiguous voice, “Tell me, or she dies.”  
I whimpered as I saw them raise the knife over her chest, making her flinch. “Last chance.” “I don’t know anything! Please!” I swear I could hear a faint chuckle as they pressed into her chest. "Please… don’t do this… I’m begging you…” The dark figure shifted, the girl gasped and I heard a revolting sound. I gagged and looked down, coughing. I looked up again, whimpering.  
They yanked their blade out and turned to face me. Her head lolled to the side with her eyes staring right into mine. I stifled a shriek and the figure started walking to me, raising their blade, dripping droplets of blood onto the floor. As I saw the blade, I heard my heart thumping in my ears and my chest tightening as I realized I was about to share the same fate as her. The smell of mold, urine, vomit and blood invaded my nose as I felt hot tears streak down my dirty face. I flinched as I saw them twitch their hand, eager to finish this. I hear their footsteps crunching the glass on the floor and the loud creaking of the wooden floor.  
I closed my eyes as I waited in mute anticipation, desperate for this nightmare to be over. Their footsteps stopped just in front of me. I heard the pitter-patter of blood from the knife and I held my breath. They just stood there, waiting. I opened my eyes and saw them move. Just as the blade touched my skin, I burst out laughing. They drove their blade deep, feeling like fire pouring into my stomach. They withdrew their blade quickly as my laughing continued. My laughs turned to shrieks as then I felt everything fading. “Tell me what you know! Tell me now!” they screamed into my face. But the damage was done. I was dying and I wasn’t giving them anything. I choked and coughed out blood. I spat at them and drew in my breath for one final guffaw. I got my last laugh.  
~ ~ ~  
My eyes snapped open and I sat up as I remembered the dream. The lump in my throat stayed as I tried to swallow. I tried to take a deep breath but I hiccupped as I remembered them standing over the girl. My arms wrapped themselves around me and I curled into a ball on the dirty mattress. I had a faint smirk as I felt my- no that person’s, defiance to the very end. I hoped that wherever they went, they got the fastpass to paradise. I took a deep and shaky breath and stowed the dream away, just like the countless ones before.  
I shakily climbed out of the cot and wiped my face. I stumbled over to the bathroom. A cockroach scurried out the window as I walked over to the dusty sink and looked into the dirty mirror. I glanced at my blotchy face and turned my head to look behind my ear. There was a large scar right below my hairline. What are you…? I turned on the faucet, sputtering out cloudy water and splashed my face. I gripped the edge of the sink and I looked into my puffy and irritated brown eyes. Just another dream, I told myself. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and wiped my hands on my ripped jeans. I brushed some of my messy short hair behind my ear and looked at the bed and out the window. The dark brown roots were starting to show through, but I didn’t care anymore.  
I walked back to the bed and took my backpack out from beneath. I changed into a faded Rolling Stones tank-top and put on my ripped dark blue jeans. These jeans weren’t the cute kind of ripped jeans, they were almost done, practically shredded. After I slipped on my shredded jeans, I put a ratty black hoodie on, put on my ratty black converse, and made sure I had everything I needed before I set out again. Gotta keep moving.  
I walked outside with my hood up and tried to look inconspicuous as I walked to a bus stop. I sat down and tried not to think about the dream, but instead I started thinking about whether I should save the money for the bus fare or for food. I couldn’t remember the last time I had enough money for both. I chuckled aloud at the thought.  
I woke up three months ago with no memory of who I was except for my name and no record of any living family online. I had woken up in a dirty alley behind a dumpster in Los Angeles by an old hobo trying to steal my jacket off me and I’d had nothing but a busted flip phone and a crumpled envelope addressed to Ellen Beckmann with the address completely smudged out and no return address. I’ve been assuming my name was Ellen ever since. I’d broken into a library one night to look up my name, but there were too many results. I must have scrolled through fifty pages on the browser before I was caught.  
It’s never a good sign when you’re all alone in the world, and you start dreaming… absolute nightmares. There have been others, each tortured in the exact same way as before. When I first dreamt, the killer almost seemed reluctant, giving their victims more chances to spill the beans, but lately… they’ve been almost happy to do this.  
When I broke into the library, I’d also given some thought on the killer. I’d searched for any deaths caused by torture in L.A, but nothing had come up. I’d also searched for missing persons but there were just too many to investigate. I did catch wind of two deaths in a warehouse a few weeks ago from a police scanner but the scanner started smoking before I could hear anything else. Maybe it’s a sign. I shouldn’t be looking for a killer who wants to find me. But I wanted answers.  
I took a deep breath and looked down the street. A stray cat slinked around the corner of a building and dogs barked in the distance. I heard the deep, throaty engine of a car a few blocks away blasting classic rock. I huffed and looked down the street. A dark figure was in the middle of the road at the end of the street. I thought of my dream and flinched. Chills went up my spine and I grabbed my pocket where a switchblade was hidden.  
I took out my knife and switched it open with a schick! I looked down at the puny thing and back at the figure. It’s them. I stared at the figure and it started to walk towards me. I stood up, glanced in the other direction and sprinted. No way I’m gonna be mincemeat. I glanced behind me and the figure had started running too. I stifled a shriek and turned the corner. I heard their footsteps behind me and I tried a random door. It opened! I slammed the door behind me and turned the heavy duty lock just as I heard a loud thud at the door. I jumped back with a gasp and my eyes were wide open.  
I turned at the second thud and looked at my options. There was a door leading to the back and a stairway to my left. With the third thud, I sprinted to the back door, opened it and then sprinted to the stairs. By the fifth thud I was a flight up. By the seventh thud, the door exploded with the sound of a gun. I stifled another shriek and kept running up the stairs. I peeked over the railing and saw a tall, white man with short dark brown hair wearing dark plaid clothes and blue jeans. He had a silver .45 Colt in his hands and was checking the back door. I reeled back and kept running.  
I felt the stairs beneath me shaking and I knew he was running up after me. I kept sprinting, full of adrenaline, all the way up seven stories. I ran off the seventh floor and burst through a random door. I quietly shut the door behind me, turned the yale lock and let out a breath before I turned around. It took me a moment to register that there was a shotgun barrel centimeters from my nose. I lifted my hands up slowly as I heard the heavy footsteps just outside the door. I felt a bead of sweat run down my face.  
The white middle-aged woman holding the shotgun gestured with the barrel to the door. She was shaking, but she looked pissed with a capital P. I had two options. Redecorate this room in red or have a chance of getting away. I gulped and took the latter into serious consideration. I felt for the lock with one of my hands and turned it. Her expression stayed the same, with her eyes boring straight into my soul. I swallowed hard and felt for the knob. I tried to open the door, but the it was stuck to the door jam. I yanked harder and it opened loudly, with my back facing the outside. I backed away and she slammed the door in my face.  
I looked around me and I saw the man running toward me from the end of the hall. I turned and ran, but he was catching up to me and fast. I leaped over the railing of the stairs and tumbled down into the stairwell. I heard a chuckle as I laid there in pain. I groaned and made a mental note to myself never to do that again. I groaned again as I got up and hissed as my arm flared up in fiery pain. I looked up at him as he was walking down the steps and I started going down the stairs again.  
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said in a deep Southern voice. “Anywhere but here,” I breathed as I kept going. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I slapped it away. “Get away from me!” I yelled, trying to attract the attention of the neighbors. They likely heard the gunshot earlier and were likely to not come out now. Cowards. “You’re a creep! Leave me alone!” “Listen lady, I’m just doing my job.” “Oh yeah? What job is that exactly?” I said, trying not to let fear leech into my voice. “I’m a private investigator and someone’s been looking for you,” he said. The darkness in the stairwell made it difficult for me to get a look at him, but his silhouette didn’t look like the dark figure.  
“Who’s been looking for me?” “He didn’t say exactly, but I could tell he’s desperate to find you.” “Did he say what his name was?” “Yeah, he said he was James Craig.” “How do you know he was desperate?” “He was wearing Payless sneakers and he gave me enough to travel across the country for you.” “Touché,” I said. He nodded and motioned for me to follow him, “Now come with me and we can get this all sorted out.” I stood there for a moment. “What’s wrong?” he asked.  
I felt strange, as if I was floating and cold. There was a knot in my stomach keeping me feeling tethered to the ground. I started breathing fast and said, “I’m not going.” I felt all the blood drain out of my face as I leaned against the wall. He put his hand on my arm.


End file.
